Switched On: Toby Wiltshire – Shunyata : Emptiness (Cue Dot Records)

toby-wiltshire

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The Cue Dot model deserves some examination, for this is no ordinary record label. It is a not-for-profit organisation, run by Paul Scott in Derbyshire, and is fronted by the flagship Cue Dot Series, now up to seven records strong. This is an opportunity for collaboration within electronic music, and the participating artists are given full control over the content and titles. The artwork, however, follows the same distinctive and particularly attractive circle pack design, best explained in the press release as ‘representing the infinite possibilities opened up through an electronic palette’.

The seventh in the series is given to Leeds-based composer Toby Wiltshire, who responds with an album using Buddhist imagery and concepts as its stimulation. Wiltshire’s free-standing style allows for slow, untethered musical movement, adding field recordings, modular synths and software to the equation. It is music for mindfulness, but with a license to develop along the way.

What’s the music like?

Wiltshire achieves a very appealing blend of stillness and activity in his work, which immediately carries the promise of outdoor activity. This in itself is stimulating, given the amount of time we have all spent indoors over the last 15 months, so the running water and soft, sleepy tones of Mist Clearing On The Mountain give the listener a chance to acclimatise to the new surroundings.

Wiltshire works and intertwines the seven recordings with the ease of a man who has been composing for 20 years, and he knows instinctively how to let the music breathe as much as it needs to. There are no explicit melodies but there are thoughts and moods that recur as each track proceeds, each keeping a firm grasp on tonality.

Running water and soft tones are also an appealing feature of Floating Consciousness, aptly named, with harmonics on the stringed instruments that give a glint to the edge of the overall sound. Karuna holds a beautiful poise, shifting slowly in the equivalent of a soft musical breeze, while Glimpse uses higher, quite shrill pitches but counters them with sounds in the middle distance. Orange Light is lovely, painting a series of closely matched, complementary musical colours like a Rothko painting.

One of the most restful scenes is found within Sakura, where bird-like noises call across the rippling texture. We could be in a vast cave, or out on the edge of a swamp in the rain – both examples of the pictures Wiltshire’s music forms in the listener’s mind. The Wave And The Water brings everything to rest at the end, with the gentle undulations implied by the title gradually evening out.

Does it all work?

It does – and if anything could be extended to an even longer piece of work. Yet Wiltshire leaves the listener wanting more, and as his work responds to repeated listening, it is easy to go round again immediately – a good state to be in. Talking of states, you will certainly end this album in a calmer condition then when you began it!

Is it recommended?

Very much so – and if like me you are using this as a point of entry to the Cue Dot series, it works as a starting point from which to enjoy the other six. There is much to admire about this label, and we will explore more in due course, but for now the wide open stage is Toby Wiltshire’s, and his music is very easy to experience and admire.

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Switched On: Aria Rostami & Daniel Blomquist: Time Apart In The West (Intimate Inanimate)

aria-rostami-daniel-blomquist

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The partnership of Aria Rostami & Daniel Blomquist release their second album in five months, again recording in separate cities due to conditions imposed by the pandemic. Rostami currently resides on the East Coast in Brooklyn while Blomquist has remained in San Francisco, but the two have honed their recording process to an effective method of musical communication across the country.

For Time Apart In The West the compositions were written separately and then the ideas developed, with Blomquist sampling and altering Rostami’s composed and recorded contributions. Like a piece of chain mail, the music was passed back and forth until both were satisfied.

What’s the music like?

The titles are simple and indistinct, divided into 14 Months, but in spite of its minimal construction Time Apart In The West contains music of warmth and meaning. It contrasts nicely with the pair’s previous release Still, on Glacial Movements, which explored how time could change motion in cold weather.

The constructions on that release were much longer, clocking in around the ten minute mark, but some of the tracks here are short, descriptive sketches like Month 1 and Month 13, suggesting slightly more mechanical origins.

They are complemented by much more expansive scenes such as Month 2 or Month 10 which hang on the air beautifully, the latter like a white cloud on a hot summer’s day. This surely has its origins in the Californian heat haze, as Month 5 would seem to have, though the shimmering horizon here has a set of discords ensuring a level of tension remains throughout.

Does it all work?

It does – either on headphones as a calming soundtrack, or on a bigger system as an immersive experience. Both composers have a keen ear for texture, with the extended melodies and chord sequences easy to follow, and the ambient white noise offering extra depth. Often the slow speeds mean the music acts like a weather system, gradually evolving and unfolding.

Is it recommended?

Very much so. Time Apart In The West is the warmth to Still’s cold, and both make excellent companion pieces.

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Switched On: Raxon: Sound Of Mind (Kompakt)

raxon

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The music of Ahmed Raxon has been a familiar feature on house and techno dancefloors for at least five years now, and he has previous with Kompakt as part of their Speicher series in 2019. The Egyptian DJ, now based in Barcelona, has label-hopped with a number of successful releases, but now turns to the longer playing format with his debut album.

What’s the music like?

Raxon’s versatility makes him the ideal producer for an electronic album. Sound Of Mind has plenty of variety, moving between slow and fast tempos, four to the floor and broken beat, but always with a surety of hand. The range of speeds and beats is impressively mastered, assembled in an order that makes the album more like a DJ set.

Raxon has a healthy penchant for music of the recent past, too, which helps him pull a couple of surprises out of the hat. Almost Human is one of these, a curveball with widescreen riffing and breaks that look more in the direction of Brighton than Barcelona. Flyby is an appealing slower jam with rich keyboards, while the sharp edges of El Multiverse are part of a really strong floor filler. Phantom Report has darkly coloured, solid beats – an examples of Raxon’s techno with depth – while Vice puts its bruising break beat to good use.

Does it all work?

It does. Raxon’s previous endeavours for a wide variety of labels helps enormously, as does his sense of structure – there are no fillers here, and a strong set of grooves in the locker.

Is it recommended?

Yes. An excellent debut long player from a producer whose versatility and confidence stand him good stead, Sound Of Mind is an album that avoids cliche and presents freshly made grooves with some style.

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Switched On: Matthew Dear: Preacher’s Sigh & Potion: Lost Album (Ghostly International)

matthew-dear

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Matthew Dear has shown himself to be an incredibly versatile electronic music artist over the years. His distinctive baritone has powered a number of successful song-based albums, while on the instrumental side his Audion alias has shown him to be a techno producer of some repute. Preacher’s Sigh & Potion comes to light twelve years after its composition, at a point where the success of his Asa Breed album was pushing Dear in a more electronic direction.

This opus, entertainingly described as ‘a spirited country romp in the techno barn’ in the press release, was shelved as Dear followed his ‘switched on’ path, but its finger-picked guitar roots can now be revealed in songs that trace back to the music his father was making in the late 1960s. Dear wrote the music in Texas, and something of the wide open spaces works its way into the music.

What’s the music like?

A fascinating blend of influences and styles. As Dear himself notes, the production is not at all fussy, leaving rough edges and raw vocals that work really well given the musical styles at play. Those who are only familiar with Dear’s sleek electro pop might be surprised at the twanging guitar sound on Crash And Burn, which brings Beck’s Devil’s Haircut to mind, and also on Heart To Sing, where the instrument twangs against a murmured vocal. It appears right from the start, too, powering the easy paced Muscle Beach.

Despite the guitar craft the main pull for this album is once again Dear’s voice, the key instrument. He has a tone similar to Depeche Mode’s Dave Gahan in its midrange, but at the same time he is capable of plumbing the depths alongside the bass, not to mention the occasional falsetto.

The highly expressive vocals power some excellent songs. Hikers Y is the most meaningful, Dear placed against a lone beat as he finds solace alone, admitting ‘I’m through with all the conversation, I was never good with conversations’. Sow Down has a familiar chugging rhythm but a full acoustic guitar sound, while All Her Fits has a softer centre, cushioned by slow moving string lines. The dappled electronics of Supper Times continue this thread.

Does it all work?

Largely. The uncluttered production is a plus, speaking of an instinctive recording process, though there are some song structures Dear might have changed and stretched. Less is definitely more in this instance though, as the shorter songs still leave their mark.

Is it recommended?

Yes. For fans, this will be an important piece of the Matthew Dear jigsaw, left incomplete until now. It also places the excellent Asa Breed and Black City in context, illustrating in the process just what a versatile producer and vocalist he continues to be.

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Switched On: Masayoshi Fujita: Bird Ambience (Erased Tapes)

masayoshi-fujita

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Until now, Japanese multi-instrumentalist Masayoshi Fujita could declare the vibraphone to be his ‘principal’ instrument. It would be top of a long list including drums, percussion, synths, effects and tape recorder. Fujita completed a triptych of vibraphone-based works for the Erased Tapes label in 2018, while continuing to record under his other alias El Fog, where he makes dub music, and in his improvisations with other artists such as Jan Jelinek.

Bird Ambience takes a decisive step to unify all those elements of his musical personality, but at the same time changes his principal instrument from the metallic vibraphone to the wooden percussion of the marimba.

What’s the music like?

Enchanting. Fujita’s ear for instrumental colour is once again immediately apparent when the music for this album begins, and he shows just how expressive the marimba can be, especially when played as softly as it is in Cumulonimbus Dream. He also shows the wide variety of sounds it is possible to coax from the instrument, using different levels of attack and sustain, both in real time and in production, to go with other pitched percussion, ambient melodic lines and carefully managed levels of distortion.

Often the music has an improvised quality, but the styles vary quite markedly. Thunder starts with crisp down beats applied to full chords, the track gradually expanding outwards to fill the headphone space. Stellar adds extra white noise to its beats, the raucous cymbals contrasting with the padded percussion elsewhere. Noise Marimba Tape goes a similar route, its ticking motif gradually taking on new lines and a firm beat, with the occasional distorted aside. Anakreon offers a complement, moving to gentle droplets of melody from the main instrument alone, while Nord Ambient and Pons remove the attack almost entirely for pure, glacial ambience.

Fujita’s judgment with the textures of his other instruments is unerring, and the music is always colourful but never crowded, and not afraid to turn towards discord and distortion as Gaia does. The lovely Morocco, meanwhile, contrasts the watery marimbas with a deep hum from a brass section, building small cells through a more classical method. Finally Fabric sets a lasting spell, sustaining bright textures in an exquisite orbit while time is marked by simple blocks.

Does it all work?

Yes. Bird Ambience is an album that demands your time as a listener for its spell to be wholly cast, since there is a lot going on here that you might miss if you choose the approach of a background listener. Only by listening closely will you appreciate the melodic cells Fujita works with, ranging from clipped marimba phrases to much longer sustained electronics. Each complements the other.

Is it recommended?

Highly. Masayoshi Fujita must have been a little anxious about moving over from the vibraphone, after such a thorough study of it over three albums, but his achievement here is rather special and often deeply moving. Bird Ambience can be relied upon as a cushion from a heavy day, an aid to thoughtful contemplation, or something to bask in as the different sources of sound rain gently on the listener’s parade.

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